Читать книгу The Bird of Heaven - Peter Dunseith - Страница 11

Mandla slept soundly the whole of the next day and all of the following night. He awoke feeling more alive and focussed than he had ever felt before. It was as though the world had slowed down so that he had more time to examine events and choose the proper reaction. He kept thinking of the slow and deliberate actions of Lunwabu, hoping that he had somehow absorbed some of his guardian’s ability to suspend action, to become invisible and then act when the moment was ripe.

The experience of being a spirit bird at the pinnacle of the world had shown him that his body was in reality made of particles of light. He now knew that the essence of all creation was vibrating energy. When he had flown under the canopy of heaven and found his flesh transformed into that of a great eagle he had come to a great realisation. He understood how the great sorcerers are able to materialise and dematerialise their bodies at will. As a being of light in a universe of light, the sorcerer can manipulate the energies from which all things are made and be in conscious communication with the entire universe, travelling not only through the physical world but also through the world of the spirit in the blink of an eye.

Mandla couldn’t explain this new awareness to anyone, not even to Grandmother, but it filled him with excitement. A door of possibility had opened for him and he felt so free and happy that it was a great shock when the dream of the snake returned with all its horror. He hadn’t had the dream since Grandmother had performed the protection ritual in the Indumba and agreed to take him on as an apprentice. Then, one night, he once again found the snake coiled on his chest, its cold black eyes watching him without blinking. The slick tongue darted towards his face. Shuddering, he tried to lift his hands to sweep the snake from his chest, but his sleeping body would not obey his command. He struggled to wake up, but he was powerless.

The snake unhinged its jaws to swallow him. He saw the curved fangs and behind them a dark wet gullet. In his mind he screamed in panic, but his throat could not form a cry to summon help. Then out of the dark gullet hissed the same hypnotic command as before: “Son of the leopard, serve the Ancient Ones.”

It was then that he felt the first stirrings of anger deep within himself, anger against the evil wizard who presumed to invade his dreams and fill his head with vile whisperings. Suddenly he longed to fight back, to show that he was worthy of being chosen by Lunwabu and the Ancestors. He summoned up all his strength and courage and silently called on the Ancestors for help. Then he imagined himself to be a great bird of light, even as inwardly he chanted the Changing Spell of Lunwabu.

At first nothing happened – the black forked tongue still flickered towards his face. Then, all at once, he was bathed in light. He raised his arms, spreading them wide, and they became wings. His body shimmered with golden feathers, and he called out in surprise, but his voice was the harsh shriek of a bird. And then the great bird launched itself into the night sky and in its beak it carried the writhing coils of a great black snake. Unable to tell if he was awake or still dreaming, Mandla could only listen to the sound of wings beating in rhythm with the pounding of his heart as the winds gusted and wailed around him like a chorus of ancient anger.